


Nightmare

by macgyvershe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: After the Fall, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enduring love, Friendship, M/M, Nightmares, Sherlock's return
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macgyvershe/pseuds/macgyvershe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Fall, the nightmares won't stop. John seeks the only person who can help and finds him ever vigilant and ready to deduce the answer to the problem.</p>
<p>A second chapter has been added per a readers request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Every night for months the dream haunts John. 

_John was looking up at the roof top. He is talking on the phone with Sherlock; his heart racing, mind numb with anxiety. Don’t do this Sherlock, don’t let this happen._

_Listening to his best friend confess himself a fraud. Though he couldn’t see, he could hear the precious tears in Sherlock’s voice. That’s not the truth, Sherlock. I’ll never believe it._

_The sound of flesh and bone impacting on the unforgiving pavement._

_“NO, no…let me through. I’m a doctor. He’s my friend.” The lifeless body, the grey/blue eyes empty of intelligence; the blood splattered face, the huge pool of warm blood coagulating on the sidewalk. John gripping the long fingered hand, the elegant wrist. No pulse, nothing. John is bone-less, heartbroken, bereft. Then the rain starts; the cold, heart-less rain to wash Sherlock’s blood into the common street._

“Sherlock,” John whimpers as he wakes into the desolation that is their shared flat. He’d come back at the urging of Mrs. Hudson. She’d said she didn’t want to rent it out. He is sure she just wants to keep an eye on him.

“Jeezeus, Sherlock,” tears in his eyes. “I can’t keep reliving this. I just can’t.”

He’d gone back to the shrink, hoping that talking about it would ease the pain and crushing sorrow, but found he couldn’t speak to her.

Getting up from his shroud of a bed; Sherlock’s bed, John maneuvers into the kitchen to heat water for tea. Opening the tea tin he finds a small note in Sherlock’s neat writing. _I’ll get more tea on Monday. SH_ John lifts the small note, holding it to his lips. His eyes tear again as he caresses the tiny paper.

The shrink had said it might help to talk to Sherlock as if he were still here; to vent his feelings. 

“Sherlock,” John speaks to the walls, the bullet holes, and the elegant dust, “I’ve got this problem. I can’t seem to get your death out of my mind and it’s killing my soul. I’m sure you’d find some easy solution. I need your help in this. Please, please help me.”

Setting the empty tin back on the shelf. Taking the small note with him, he goes back to the empty bed. Sitting on the edge he folds the note and places it in his wallet. Then he grabs the bottle of over the counter sleeping pills. Downing several with some water from a glass on the bed side stand, he pulls the blankets around him as he lies down. 

John breathes deeply. Thinking about Sherlock, all that they had been through in the past. What an exquisite creature Sherlock was; a being of unequaled beauty, unparalleled intelligence and a deep inability to manage even rudimentary human interactions.

John smiled at that last bit. He felt the sleeping pills soften his consciousness; hopefully pulling him into a dreamless sleep.

 _‘John,’_ a whispered voice so familiar and soothing. 

“Sherlock!” John attempts to pull himself back from the abyss of synthetic sleep.

 _‘John, listen to me. I’ve come with your solution. I never could pass up a truly difficult task.’_ John can hear the excitement in Sherlock’s voice. 

_‘Don’t let him win, John. He wanted to crush you, to ‘burn’ you through me. He wanted this more than anything he ever could. You’re stronger than he, John. You are the very essence of strength, wisdom, bravery and steadfastness. You will never let him win, John. I know you won’t. You can’t. You were in my heart, the very last thought in my head, John. I couldn’t ask for better.’_

John drifts into dreamless sleep. 

He wakes with the first sunshine radiating through the windows. He remembers the words that Sherlock said. His Sherlock. His.

“Sod this, Moriarty. Sod you and the darkness and deception that flowed from your spider’s web. I’m not going there ever again. I knew Sherlock. I knew him better than any man. He was a good man. I’ll never think of him in any other way.”

Getting up, he felt renewed; felt strong and powerful again. He could still hear Sherlock’s voice in his head. He would always hear him. He knew now that Sherlock would never leave his side. The beautiful, exasperating and genius of a man would never be anything else. Would never age, never falter, never be anything less than what he’d been to John. All he had to do was ask and Sherlock would always bring the answer to the forefront of John’s mind. 

That was what Sherlock did, that was who Sherlock was. “I love you,” John said to the room, the transformed walls, the elegant dust and he knows his love hasn’t died with Sherlock. “Beloved, I will always love you.” Tears of joy and warmth and everlasting love form in John’s eyes and they fall like a gentle rain that makes love blossom anew each day.


	2. Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when Sherlock re-enters John's life? Per a readers request as stated in Notes. Please enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IAmWatsonToMySherlock asked for a bit more of the story. What would happen when Sherlock popped up again. This is her request. I hope you like it dear heart.

John lay in a deep sleep. There was a small smile on his thin lips. Sherlock filled his dreams. He found great comfort and satisfaction in his impossible dreams. His heart knew that Sherlock could not provide that one last miracle of stop being dead. He knew it and still his heart and mind provided these sweet dreams of Sherlock and him together. Happy. Loving one another. Free of the sigma of the lies Moriarty had painted Sherlock in.

“John.” That remembered voice. That gentle baritone whispered his name, enticing, thrilling and intoxicating. “John, I want you to feel my hand on yours.”

John felt warmth and a light pressure on his dominate left hand.

“Keep your eyes closed, dear heart. Don’t move. Let me work my magic. Let me bring your miracle to you.”

John drew a deep breath and subtle scent of tall, dark and dangerous filled his nostrils.

“My god.” John whispered.

John felt the bed dip. Long arms engulfed him. Strong legs locked around his, pressing him, trapping him to the bed. A head tilted next to his and John started to shake as the body surrounding him trembled and sobbed in grief and heart rending relief.

“I’m home.” Sherlock choked out. He nuzzled into John. Pressing soft kisses to his forehead and temple. “I’ll never leave you again John. Never.”

John was distraught. His dream and reality merging. A crying Sherlock Holmes did not compute. A dead, and at the same time alive, Sherlock Holmes was not possible, was it?

“Sherlock? Oh god, it’s you!”

Sherlock stoppered up John’s mouth with his incredibly sensual lips as he kissed John deeply and thoroughly. Kissed him and kissed him some more.

“Forgive me. Please John I’ve been so much more than an idiot.” Hot tears tumbled down Sherlock’s cheeks, wetting John beneath him.

“Sherlock.” John used his command voice. “Sherlock let me up.

The consulting crying detective only lifted up so that he could view John’s face in the dim radiance of filtered streetlights softly illuminating John’s bedroom.

“You.” John freed his arms from Sherlock’s grip and got up on his elbows. “You….what the hell is going on?”

“I’m doing as you requested. One. More. Miracle.” Sherlock lowered his forehead to John’s as he positioned himself for another kiss.

“Blood hell.” John breathed into the advancing powerful kiss. Whatever hurt that John felt. Whatever rage and rants bubbling to the surface of John's mind, Sherlock smothered with his love. A kiss so passionate, so loving, so completely perfect that John melted into the bed as Sherlock again took possession of his body and his soul.

John crushed Sherlock to his heart. “I love you, you great woolen git. I love you.” Neither of them letting go for most of the rest of their lives.


End file.
